


Kerry's Carry On Countdown-2018

by Fandoms_Everywhere_United



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Anxiety, Banter, Carry On Countdown 2018, Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Very very minor, but very minor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-29 02:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16735191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Everywhere_United/pseuds/Fandoms_Everywhere_United
Summary: This is a set of drabbles for the Carry On Countdown 2018.  MostAllof these will probably be SnowBaz, and I'm following the list of prompts which can be foundhere.  I hope you enjoy!





	1. Flower Shop AU

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Don't mind me, committing to a 30-day countdown while I know damn well that I have plenty of other stuff I should be working on~~
> 
> This was actually a lot of fun to write, and I'm so sad that I haven't written for this fandom in so long. I hope that you enjoy reading these as much as I love writing them.
> 
> I hope to make each of these circa 1000 words, if some are shorter, I'm going to apologize in advance, because my finals are coming up soon, so I might be a _tiny_ bit distracted by that.

Baz had no clue why he was even in a flower shop, to begin with.

The pollen was tickling at his nose which scrunched up in a sneer at how _colorful_ everything was. Different types of plants were strung about the walls in all manners of order and disorder. He couldn’t tell how any of them were organized, because it certainly wasn’t by color or how they were growing.

It looked like complete chaos.

“Please take a look around!” An unusually cheery voice came from somewhere behind a tower of foliage. Just the pitch was going to give Baz a headache. He turned to leave the shop when out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a mop of golden curls. The body rounded the corner and smiled happily at Baz.

The boy was flat out gorgeous. His hair caught the light at a dozen different angles and radiated outward in all directions. Moles dusted his exposed tan skin, and there was a lot of exposed skin. The boy was wearing a very thin tank top and loose shorts. Baz shouldn’t be staring, really he shouldn’t. The clothing choice made sense, it was bloody hot in this shop, and if you worked here, you would want to find some way to keep cool. For this sunshine boy in front of him, that just so happened to mean a lot of exposed skin.

Baz was completely enamored. That is until the boy spoke and it was the same unusually cheery voice as before. He didn’t even have the good decency to make the phrase, “just tell me if you need anything,” sound the least bit forced.

Baz’s scowl, which might have disappeared the slightest bit while he admired the expanse of beautiful skin in front of him, returned full force. “This isn’t what I thought it was.” He said, trying to make his voice as deep as it could go.

“What were you thinking a shop with the name _Floral Fun_ was going to be?” The boy asked as Baz was halfway out the door. The bell above him had already rung to signal his departure, but he felt himself hesitating.

“I… don’t know.” He admitted as he pushed the door open the rest of the way.

“Wait, are you here for the flower personality thing?” He asked, stopping Baz once again.

That wasn’t what he had come in for; he was sure of that, but he felt himself staying behind for it. “Uh, yeah.” He stammered. He was so glad that neither Niall nor Dev was here, because they would never let him live down staying for some stupid flower personality test. He let the door close behind him and followed the boy deeper into the flower shop.

He looked back at Baz with an obnoxiously large smile on his face. “My name is Simon, and I can read people.” He stuck his hand out, and Baz shook it. Simon’s hand was remarkably warm and calloused for spending his time in a flower shop.

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.” He smiled at Simon’s facial reaction to his full name.

“Well, if we’re doing full names, I’m Simon Snow, no middle name. Do you go by Ty or something shorter?”

“I go by Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.” He said, just to see what the other would do with it.

Snow smiled. “Alright, Ty, how are you doing today?”

Baz snorted. “I go by Baz most of the time.” He looked awkwardly around at the various plants that littered the counter. None of them had names to him, but they all looked very different. “What do I do now?”

“You’re done,” Simon said. “I have exactly what I need.” He rubbed his chin with a hand and looked skeptically at Baz. It was the first time that he hadn't been smiling the entire time that they had been together.

“That’s ominous.” He said but allowed Simon to look him up and down. It was only fair since he had done the exact same thing as soon as he had seen the other.

He was in the middle of admiring a plant with thin green leaves that poked out like a poorly maintained head of hair with a disproportionately giant flat flower (was it really a flower?) when Snow raised his head and spoke into the silence. “Barberry.” He cocked his head and nodded again. “Yeah, it’s not technically a flower; I guess if you really wanted a flower, you could be a Hyacinth, but you seem like someone who would walk into a flower shop and not buy a flower.”

He ducked below the counter and pulled out a small purple shrub. The circular leaves were closely attached to the stem, and small thorns were sticking out in various places. The pot it was living in fit in the palm of Baz’s hand, and he found the corner of his lips quirking subtly upwards.

“Alright, I’ll bite, what’s the meaning behind this one?”

“Like in the language of flowers?” Baz nodded. “Well, this little guy isn’t a flower, and I don’t base my assessments off of the language. I chose the barberry for you because of a few reasons, and I’m going to list the bad ones first, that way we end on a good note.

“He does best in alkaline soil, so slightly basic soil. I’m not saying you’re basic; if you ever taste something with slight alkalinity, it tastes sort of bitter. Now, I am saying you’re bitter, but only slightly. That was my first impression of you because you instantly tried to leave after you saw someone else in a flower shop.

“Now, he has these little barbs all around him. Again, a bit of a negative assessment, and I’m sorry about that. Barbs are often thought of as less dangerous than thorns, but barbs stick out far more and are considerably thinner than thorns, which can actually make barb-wounds worse than thorn-wounds.

“On to the positive aspects of this little guy. First off, he is incredibly difficult to kill. He will be back even if you try and get rid of him. That’s a bit of loyalty for you. No matter what happens, if you plant him somewhere, he will stay there, no questions asked.

“Then there’s his color. If you hadn’t noticed already, he’s purple. Everyone has something that makes them unique, it just might not be in the way that you would think. This specific variety of barberry is _Berberis thunbergii _‘atropurpurea’. He has a natural purple color when he’s out in the sun, and that’s not what I would expect from him. I don’t know what I would have expected though.__

__“When you put all of those together, you get a fiercely loyal plant that will protect you until the end of its days.”_ _

__Simon went quiet as Baz looked further at the plant in his hands. “I think you put a little too much confidence in me for someone you just met.” He said._ _

__He shrugged. “I never said I would be accurate; I just try to be.” He gestured to the plant. “If you want to take him home, I offer a 50% discount on personality plants.” Baz nodded and, setting the barberry on the counter, pulled out his wallet._ _

__“One more thing.” Simon smiled at him as he punched the plant into the register. “I was wondering what kind of plant you thought I would be. I ask everyone this, and maybe I can get the average of what everyone thinks.”_ _

__“I know a grand total of four flowers.”_ _

__Snow shrugged and smiled again. “Give me your best shot.”_ _

__Baz looked the flower boy up and down once more, taking a substantial notice in his hair again. “A sunflower.” He blurted out. It was the only one that he could think of that wasn’t something cheesy like a rose, and he had lied: he only knew two flowers._ _

__“It was the hair, wasn’t it?”_ _

__“And the smile.”_ _

__“Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot before too.” He slid the barberry over to Baz. “Will this little guy be all for you?”_ _

__“Actually… could I get a sunflower as well?”_ _


	2. Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon loves the beach. Baz does not. That doesn't stop him from enjoying his time there though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Two days down and I'm still on time. *knock on wood*

The beach was one of Simon’s favorite places. He loved playing in the waves and the sand, feeling it squish between his bare toes. He enjoyed the sun beating down on his bare back and the chill water sending goose pimples up and down his body from the shock of it.

It reminded him of the one summer that he was housed in a home close to the coast and they took daily trips down because they simply had nothing better to do. Simon had learned how to swim that summer, and it was one of the best times of his life.

Simon loved the beach.

Baz did not.

“Do you have enough sunscreen on, Baz? I think that this is your fifth layer since we left the flat.” Simon chided. He was barely restraining himself from running straight into the ocean. His excess energy was still coming out of him in the eager fidgeting and the hardly noticeable hops that he was making while waiting for Baz to finish.

“This is my third layer, Snow. In case you had forgotten, I’m a bloody vampire. We’re slightly flammable.” Baz griped. His skin was a shade lighter from the sheer amount of lotion that he was putting on. “This is not the way that I would want to go out.”

Simon sighed heavily and sat next to Baz, but as soon as he sat down, he was up again. He rocked on the back of his heels eagerly. As soon as he heard the _click_ of the sunscreen bottle, he was anxiously pulling the oh-so-fragile vampire to the sand.

“We didn’t grab the towel!” Baz exclaimed, trying to pull his overzealous boyfriend back to the car to grab their supplies. “We left the food in the car, Simon.” He said, knowing that that was (maybe) the one thing that would get the pull on his arm to stop.

Without another word, Simon had launched himself back toward the car, holding his hand open for the keys which slipped from his grip as soon as they made contact with his palm. It took another three seconds for the picnic basket and beach towels to be in his hands and the car door to be closed again.

“C’mon, Baz! I bet you can’t catch me!” He laughed. The grains of sand that were sent up in a spray stuck to the sun lotion on Baz’s legs unpleasantly, but there was no way that he was going to turn down a challenge like that.

The uneven sand was incredibly malleable under his bare feet (he had lost his shoes when he first started running) and almost sent him face-first into the beach more than once on his mad dash to get back to Simon. “Where are you going?” He asked as Simon’s tanned shoulder slipped from the grasp of Baz’s slippery hand.

“To the ocean!”

“Not with our lunch you aren’t!” Baz launched himself forward and directly in front of Simon’s path. Unfortunately, sand doesn’t provide enough friction to stop an eager boyfriend from crashing into whatever is in front of him and bringing them both down.

“Save the scones!” Simon yelped as he landed on top of Baz and the picnic basket (still closed, thankfully) as launched into the air. Air exploded from both their lungs on impact, and after it was determined that the scones had survived, they laid next to each other, staring at the clear sky.

“It seems like I’m bringing your fall in more ways than one now.” Baz teased

“Oh shut up. If it weren’t for your bloody long legs, I would have been in the ocean far before you had even started running.”

“And whose fault is that?” Baz asked innocently as he played with a curl of Simon’s hair in his hand.

“Who has the longer legs?”

Simon propped himself up on one arm to look at Baz. “I’m not going to answer that, now let’s get up and into the ocean. Can’t you hear it calling you?”

“I feel the call of the ground,” Baz said, closing his eyes and feeling the heat of the sun beat down on his (hopefully adequately protected) skin. “It’s called gravity, and it wants me to stay right where I am.”

Simon pulled at his boyfriend’s arm, trying to pull him closer to the water. A brilliant idea popped into his head, and he stopped pulling as he smiled deviously. “If you’re not going to move, I’m going to make you a part of the beach.”

“Sounds exciting.” Baz’s eyes were still closed.

Snickering to himself, Simon shoved copious amounts of sand into a pile next to the other. It took him a good few minutes of trying to stay quiet and out of the sun’s light before he had enough to completely cover his boyfriend.

Quickly, before he could change his mind or rethink his decisions, he pushed the sand onto Baz’s body, effectively making him into a _sand_ wich. As soon as he proclaimed that to Baz, the sentient mound was shaking with laughter.

“I’m a what now?” He asked

“A sandwich. Emphasis on the sand part of it.”

“I got that.” Baz leaned his head back again, abandoning himself to the tomb of sand and wishing that he had a pillow. “Could you pass me a scone?”

Simon nodded and unceremoniously placed one in Baz’s empty mouth.

“Thanks.” He said sarcastically, although the noise was partially muffled by the scone.

“You’re very welcome!” Simon said happily around a mouthful of his own as he stared out into the ocean.

He had his scones, his boyfriend, and the beach. What more could he ask for?


	3. Abroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are traveling to see Agatha in California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three days :) Sorry this one is so short though, finals stress is hitting a little too soon and a little too hard :/

Some mythology claimed that vampires could turn into bats at a whim, soaring up into the sky and leaving the puny mortals behind on their pitiful two dimensional plane of existence. As incredible as that sounds, Baz knew it was false for two reasons:

One: he was a vampire and could testify that they could not, in fact, transform into any other animal, least of all a bat.

Two: he was absolutely terrified of flying.

Maybe it was because he had spent those months locked away in a coffin barely kept alive, but he couldn’t stand the pressurized cabin. There was no exit anywhere. He was trapped for the entire eleven hours and fifteen minutes to California.

His hands trembled against the armchair, the blood rushed away from his white-knuckled grip. He tried to close his eyes, but then he was back in the dark, that black coffin where he was alone, so alone under the cold bridge. So his eyes were open, wide open.

He glanced out the window, his only salvation, where he could _see_. He could see the light of the sun reflecting off the white clouds below him, and he was reminded of how thankful he was to have Snow who didn’t question him when he asked for a morning flight. _Leave at 6, get there at 6, and then one of the first things we’ll see is the sunset, Snow. It’s romantic._ He had rationalized.

Snow, bless his heart, didn’t bother to mention the fact that Baz had never once in their relationship attempted to be romantic beyond trying to kill himself in a forest.

He had looked into Baz’s sidewalk-grey eyes and the silent fear that hid behind them and booked the flight for the early morning. Baz felt his heart grow when Snow had stopped his advocation for a red-eye flight.

His amazing boyfriend was asleep on his shoulder. The position looked overly uncomfortable, but the slight trail of saliva making its way down from the corner of his mouth testified that he was asleep.

Baz leaned back, his head pushing forcefully against the headrest, and he exhaled slowly through his clenched teeth. Snow shifted against him, and his head curled further into Baz’s shoulder.

He cursed himself and tried to force himself to relax. Of course, that only made him tense up more. Snow lifted his head drowsily and blinked the clouds away from his blue eyes to look at Baz.

“You sh…” He cleared his throat. “You should sleep. Long plane ride ahead of us.”

Baz smiled and pressed a small kiss into Simon’s temple. “Haven’t been able to sleep yet. You should get back to it though; you need your beauty sleep.” He joked but couldn’t force his hands to relinquish their death grip of the armrests.

Snow cuddled back up into Baz’s side, but he caught sight of how unnaturally white his hands were. “Are you okay?” He asked. All of the sleepiness was gone from his voice, concern replaced it.

“Yeah, just a little…” Baz trailed off as the plane struck a patch of turbulence. His grip tightened to the point that he could have crushed walnuts with his bare hands. His eyes squeezed shut for a split second before they snapped open again and took in the brilliant light spilling in from the window.

Snow placed one of his warm hands over his boyfriend’s and coaxed it from the armrest into a much softer grasp. He ran his thumb over the back of Baz’s hand comfortingly. “What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t want to go into it now.” Baz murmured. His eyes drifted away from Snow’s blue ones, and he looked at the floor of the cabin. “Would you just… Would you just hold me?”

Simon smiled comfortingly. He bent his body in an obnoxiously uncomfortable position to press their lips together. “Anything for you.”


	4. Fluff Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon decorates their flat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahaha... Already day four and I'm already doing incredibly short chapters late... things are not looking good for the rest of the countdown. Oops.

Simon smiled in satisfaction.

The Christmas tree was decorated in different shades of red, orange, and yellow. Their two stockings hung above the fake fireplace (vampirism tended to put a bit of a damper on real flames), which was crackling happily and providing the room with warmth. Three freshly baked chocolate chip cookies were laid out on the mantle with a tall glass of milk next to them.

The room was officially Christmas ready.

Well, almost Christmas ready; he still needed one more integral part to this scene for it to be absolutely _perfect_.

The sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the flat and Simon found himself smiling in anticipation. The last part was home early. 

“Snow? Where are you hiding?” Baz called. Small thuds sounded from beyond the kitchen as he was most likely cleaning his boots of the snow that was falling outside. He turned the corner and when he spotted Simon, his face lit up brighter than the fireplace.

Small snowflakes rested on his beanie and on the tips of his hair. His cheeks were a pleasant rosy color (he must have just fed) that Simon didn’t hesitate to kiss as soon as he saw, and his jacket was frosted a wonderful white from the flurry outside.

“What’s all this, Snow?”

“Christmas, obviously.” Simon rolled his eyes and tucked his head under Baz’s chin while pulling the taller into an embrace. “And, something else.”

Baz wrapped his arms around Simon and sighed heavily. “Oh yeah? And what’s that something else? Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

“It’s not hard to guess.”

They both moved to the couch as Baz pondered what else it could be before he chuckled low in his throat and pressed a kiss into the golden hair right above his boyfriend’s temple. “You know, love, your color scheme really gave it away.”

Simon hummed happily into Baz’s chest. “Really then? What’s the occasion?”

“Our pseudo-anniversary is today, isn’t it. The first time that you kissed me, and I couldn’t believe that you were the first one to make a move.” Baz traced shapes into Simon’s shoulder softly. “It was the reds and oranges and yellows. Then the fireplace too. You never turn that bloody thing on.”

“It’s not too weird then?”

“To celebrate an anniversary? Snow, I’m dating _you_. I thought anniversaries were a part of the package.”

“No, the colors of fire,” Simon mumbled. “You’re not mad that I decorated the house the colors of something that could kill you, and almost did?”

“That day was the happiest day of my life, love. Why wouldn’t I want to be reminded of it?”

He tilted Simon’s face upwards and pressed their lips together. This time, _Baz_ was kissing _Snow_ , and they were both desperately reaching for each other, never going to let go.


	5. Mythology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all.
> 
> Shitty chapter incoming.
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> (But, hey, I'm still on time)

Mythology was a weird thing when it came to the wizarding world. For instance, centaurs were real, and so were pixies. But apparently flying reindeer and the tooth fairy were things made up by the Normals.

In a way it makes sense, but in most ways, it really didn’t.

Then mythology would have the nerve to be _wrong_ about some things that totally did exist. To build off of earlier examples: centaurs exist, but they’re really fucking mean, and pixies exist, but they also do not fit in the palm of your hand.

If you asked Simon Snow about any of that, you would find him abnormally enthusiastic. Having grown up with the Normals and their myths, he had some right to be confused by the fact that Baz wasn’t at all deterred by garlic.

The cross gave him pause, but garlic never did. It hadn’t bothered him even when Simon had gone out of his way to buy garlic fries and eat them in their shared room at the Mummer’s house. He had left the empty container reeking of old garlic in the trash can for almost a week, and the most reaction he had gotten was a small scrunch of his nose.

He could also see himself in the reflection of a mirror. Simon had been looking forward to testing some theories of his (if he was wearing clothes, would the clothes show up?). Well, theory, singular, he supposed. This preconception was blown out of the water when Simon had gotten out of the shower and wiped the condensation from the mirror above the sink. Like a classic, horror villain, Baz was right in that empty space behind Simon. The frequency of the scream that tore through the flat ensured that the vampire didn’t try anything of that nature again.

They didn’t need to be given permission to enter someone’s house. He had always had his doubts about that one.

Baz could go out in the sun. Of all the things that Mythology would get wrong, Simon really hoped that that one would have been correct. It was, like, their main weakness, and Baz would walk around in the sun no problem. Apparently, Vampires just preferred dark areas.

They couldn’t fly. Simon was proud there was at least one thing that he could do that Baz couldn’t.

They would die from a wooden stake to the heart. Simon had personally asked Baz that question and was met with a joking smile and, “Planning on killing me already? We’ve only been dating for two months.” Baz had also pointed out that stabbing a wooden stake into almost anything’s heart would kill it.

As for super human strength, well, Simon would blush profusely as he thought of their nighttime ventures and say that those were not, in fact, lies.

Really, mythology had gotten a lot wrong about Vampires, but Simon wouldn’t have it any other way.


	6. Hogwarts AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, it's 11:59. I'm sorry

The Chosen One was a Hufflepuff.

Simon Snow had been too preoccupied with the bloody magic in the air to realize just why everyone was laughing. The Chosen One was supposed to be brave, smart, and cunning. Any of the other Houses would have been an acceptable place to put him (except for maybe Slytherin, but that was because of the whole evil-connotations thing).

But he wasn’t put in Ravenclaw like his best friend Penny who was smart enough to teach a class after ten minutes with the book. She was brilliant with magic, just like her mother had been. Simon couldn’t even get his wand to work right half the time, it was like his magic was cursed.

He wasn’t put into Gryffindor where everyone expected him to go. Everyone expected the Chosen One to be perfect, to be brave, to never back down from a fight. He had heard that the last “Chosen One” had been in Gryffindor as well, so naturally, everyone was surprised when he wasn’t placed there.

No one really expected him to be placed in Slytherin. He had to say, that even though being right next to the kitchens was great and everything. It would have been really cool to live in a literal dungeon right next to the lake.

Being in Slytherin would have also made his relationship with a certain Vampire much less tedious. They wouldn’t need to sneak each other into their respective common rooms, because they would be in the same common room. They would never have to duck behind doors and into (hopefully) empty classrooms. Neither of them would have had to deal with the incredulous looks that they got from the rest of their House when they revealed their relationship.

It was also less frowned upon to try and kill one of the students in the same House as you, which would have made their first few years at odds with one another a little more bearable.

“Baz!” Simon shouted down the hall to his boyfriend in a billowing black robe. “Wait up!” His shoes made hollow clacking noises on the empty hall floor as he chased after his boyfriend. “Where are you going?”

“Follow along, Snow.” Baz teased as he quickened his pace.

Baz ducked into an alcove, and Simon rushed to keep up with him before he was lost on the seventh floor alone.

He nearly yelped as his boyfriend grabbed the loose sleeve of his robe and pulled the two of their bodies flush against each other. Their lips crashed together as the door behind them opened. (How long had that door been there?) They fell inside.

Baz pulled Simon’s yellow tie so that their faces would meet again, and Simon had never been so happy to surrender himself completely.

“Where even are we?” He mumbled against his boyfriend’s lips.

“The room of requirement,” Baz said as if it were obvious. “Why else would I have called you to the seventh floor?”

Simon snorted and pressed his head against Baz’s chest. “We _required_ a room to sneak off and snog?”

“Always.” He hissed into Simon’s ear in a voice that made him ache for the promise of what was coming soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any grammar/spelling, please tell me. I wrote this in 15 minutes.


	7. Christmas Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm actually really proud of this? I'm like, really, really proud of this one? So... please enjoy this? Sorry for the First Person POV, but I thought it suited this chapter more.

I was in the forest.

I was alone and so so hungry. Hungry for power, hungry for _something_ that didn’t seem to be food. I strained against the chains that were startlingly similar to me, but I couldn’t understand what they were. I was just, so _empty_ and I needed anything to fill me.

In the back of my mind, I thought back to what I could always rely on.

Blue eyes.

Blond curls.

Simon Snow.

 _Simon Snow_.

I needed to get to Snow. The cold air wrapped around the chains and chilled me to the bone. Tree branches creaked in the wind, and dislodged branches snapped under something’s weight.

I focused my hearing on those sounds; they seemed to be getting closer and closer to me. I strained against the chains to get there. I strained to get to _Simon Snow_.

My prayers were answered as Snow walked through the trees in front of me. The branches snapped underneath his weight, and he was making no effort to be quiet as he ran through the hubris to get to me.

Snow slid the last few feet to him on his knees. “Oh my god, Baz, are you okay?” He questioned me, but I didn’t have an answer. Snow was so close to me, and I could feel the raw, unbridled, _burning_ power thrumming beneath his skin. “Baz? Let’s get you out of here.”

His hands were on my skin, and I could _pull_ just like he had _pushed_ into me before. It was amazing. It was wonderful. It was intoxicating. It…

Wasn’t enough.

His power rushed into me, filling the hole that couldn’t be filled by anything other than all of Simon Snow. I pulled and pulled and pulled, but Snow wasn’t stopping me. He was almost encouraging me and pushing back, pushing his magic more into me. I was drunk on the feeling, drunk on Simon Snow.

It wasn’t enough.

In my gums, I felt my teeth begin to show themselves. They were emerging, and I couldn’t stop them as much as I needed to; I wasn’t sure I _wanted to_.

I pushed him away from me, but he stayed. He pushed more of himself into me and tilted his head to touch our lips together, and in this instant, I knew: Simon Snow is going to die kissing me.

Snow released my arms, and they were instantly on his body. I shoved him back into the tree that I had been tied to, and my fangs were finally out. They were out and then they were in. They slid so easily into the soft skin of his neck, and his blood rushed to fill my mouth.

My fangs had gone in so easily and so quickly; I was disgusted with myself, but I couldn’t make my body stop. I felt Snow jerk under me in surprise, and the magic flowing from him to me faltered for a second but resumed just as suddenly as it had stopped. What was he doing? He was going to let me kill him.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. The hero was always supposed to win against the villain. Good was always supposed to conquer evil.

Simon Snow was always supposed to kill me. Wet tears fell from my eyes, and I struggled to pull away, but his hands wrapped around my arms and pulled me further into him. _Why_?

He wasn’t letting me pull away.

 _He was letting me kill him_.

I felt a drop of water fall from him to me. He was crying. Simon Snow was crying because of me, and I have never been more disgusted with myself.

I tried to push myself away from him again, but this time he wrapped his arms around my waist. His grip was getting weaker as I was getting stronger (but not strong enough to stop).

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into my ear, softly, weakly. It was unlike any other sound I had heard from him. He was always strong and bold, never weak, never this.

His arms tightened further around me, and a hot tear fell to my cheek.

“ _ **Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bright**_.”


	8. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I don’t care if Vampires can’t reproduce. Twilight says otherwise and so do I. Also: This is an MPreg, so if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Let’s pretend that in this world, mpreg is somewhat normal, but there are often complications during the birth for both the baby and the father.

Baz never thought he was going to have kids. He figured the whole Vampire thing would get in the way of reproduction, but he couldn’t say that he was unhappy seeing his fiance’s stomach swell over the past nine months. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Seeing Snow pregnant with his child thrilled him on a primal level. Baz did everything for Simon. He learned how to bake sour cherry scones so that they didn’t have to leave the house to go and get them from the local bakery. He cleaned the house around Simon, not letting the other lift a finger unless it was absolutely necessary.

Baz had even started to read books on what to do when your significant other went into labor. He had never, in all of his years of attending Watford studied so hard for a test, if this could even be called a test.

Even with all his preparation, he was still grossly unprepared when his phone rang and Simon needed to get to the hospital. In the middle of the grocery store, he stopped what he was doing and left, thankful that he hadn’t had a chance to get started shopping.

He made the twenty-minute drive back to their house in seven minutes, and Snow was already on the threshold of their house. One of his hands was keeping him braced upright against the door while his other hand rested on his stomach with a thick towel. Baz hardly waited to put the car in park before his door was open and he was halfway to his fiance.

“How long?” He asked as they both maneuvered themselves so that Simon was leaning on Baz. Right before they got to the car, Simon stopped and groaned, forcing Baz to stop with him. His face was scrunched up in pain and both of his hands wrapped protectively around his belly.

After almost a minute, Simon’s muscles loosened and they made it safely into the car, Simon insisting that they put the towel on the seat before he got in.

“How long?” Baz reiterated. He sped down the driveway as quickly as he dared with the precious cargo.

“I don’t know,” Simon muttered. For the moment, his eyes were closed and he had wormed his way into a comfortable position for himself. “Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before I called you?”

Baz cursed under his breath.

“Hey, you need to stop with the language now, mister,” Simon said, trying to be funny. “We’re going to have a baby soon, and I don’t want their first word to be a bad one.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I wasn’t sure if they were just Braxton-Hicks like before.” He said then tensed at another hit him. He groaned and panted heavily in the passenger seat beside Baz as the car wove in and out of traffic, earning several people blaring their horns at them, but neither of them could care.

They made it to the hospital in record time, and after a quick ultrasound, the doctors immediately determined that he needed to have a c-section. The baby was positioned abnormally, they had said. They needed to do an emergency c section, immediately.

In less than five minutes, Baz’s fiance had been whisked away, stuffed into an operating room, and barred from him. Because it was an emergency, and they weren’t officially married, Baz wasn’t allowed in the room; he had to be content with watching Simon through glass a floor above.

His hands were clenched tightly at his sides as he stared helplessly down. Simon’s hair had been pulled back under a thin cap. He was allowed to be awake during the procedure, and he had been told exactly where Baz was. Blue eyes crinkled in a comforting smile.

Neither of them looked away from each other for fifteen minutes when Simon’s eyes sleepily closed themselves. Baz’s hand, which had been pressed up against the cold glass, fogging an imprint of his hand into it, curled inwards on itself and scratched a track down the glass.

Something flashed on a screen, the shutters in front of him snapped shut, and Baz panicked. Dread sunk into his bones. He couldn’t see anything. Simon was gone from his vision.

He yanked the door open and rushed into the hall, running for Simon’s OR room only to see a man in blue scrubs and a mask still on his face walk out of the swinging doors. They both stopped in their tracks and stared at each other.

“What are you doing out here?” Baz asked. He was trying to sound angry, _Simon_ was in there, and his doctor was out here. It couldn’t be true because that meant that there was something wrong, and there couldn’t be something wrong, because everything was supposed to be over now.

The doctor shook his head. The movement was barely perceptible, but to Baz, it was like a neon sign in the night. He felt something inside him break, something that had cracked a long time ago, and he thought that he had healed.

He was saying something. The words reverberated around his brain, something like ‘condolonces’ and ‘major complications’, but the words didn’t mean anything to him. Something bright inside of him was extinguished.

A nurse walked out of the doors that the doctor had emerged from holding something in a light rosy bundle. She knelt to the ground in front of him (when had he fallen?) and handed him the bundle.

“It’s a girl.” She said, the first words that he had heard clearly since the doctor walked through the doors. “Did you two pick out a name in advance?”

Baz nodded. There was a lump in his throat, and his first attempts to speak were foiled by it. “Ebeneza Natasha Snow-Pitch.” The name had been Simon’s idea really, two of the bravest, most powerful witches would watch over their daughter as they had looked over both of her fathers.

The nurse nodded and left him as he looked at his daughter’s face, quietly sleeping. Whisps of curly golden hair were already sprouting from her head, and Baz smiled at the bitter irony.

He knew that they were going to come back for her, but right now, he just wanted to hold little Ebb. He clung to his daughter, blinking tears that he didn’t know he had shed away.

Maybe he could find his family in her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, I know this is very inaccurate. I am a Pre-Med student. I know that this is all very inaccurate. Baz would have most likely been able to join Simon for the C section, and he would have been allowed in, and there usually aren't shutters on the observation windows, and a c section is a fairly low-risk operation. Just let them have PAIN!!!


	9. Sun Rise/Sun Set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late update, I'm sorry. I want to thank my wonderful and beautiful friend who probably doesn't read the notes for the ideas for yesterday's and today's prompts. I'll include her name if she okays it tomorrow.

**Simon**

I love the sunset; it’s my favorite time of the day. The sky turns magnificent shades of red and purple and orange, but right now, I’m really hoping for a deep red color.

I’m sitting next to Baz on a scratchy blanket that’s thin enough for the blades of grass to tickle our skin, but neither of us are complaining. His arm is wrapped around me, and his right hand is tracing shapes into my shoulder comfortingly. The picnic basket half full of cherry scones is at our feet.

His hair rests against my face almost uncomfortably, but I can’t bring myself to care. The sky is a brilliant hue of bright orange, and I know that I have to start now for just the perfect time to come by. My fingers trail across the small velvet box in the pocket of my trousers. My mouth is instantly dry.

Baz notices. His head curls further into my shoulder; I know for a fact his eyes are closed. He would be the only bloke on this planet to not look at such a beautiful sunset right in front of his eyes. “Are you okay?” He mumbles just loud enough for me to hear.

“Yeah, yeah.” I assure him quickly. The dryness has spread to my throat, and I’m trying as hard as I can to not cough and ruin this. “I just, um…” Dammit, I had practiced this whole speech. Why wasn’t it coming to me now? “Can I ask you… something?”

Baz has picked up on my jitteriness by now; he pushed himself off of my shoulder, and I can’t help how much that single motion felt like a bad omen prophesizing rejection. “You can always ask me anything.” He says. Damn him, it might be the most romantic thing he has ever said to me.

I’m stopped by the sincerity in his eyes. His eyes, usually so cold and grey now tinged with something else, something I’ve never seen in him before. He seemed almost… uncertain.

“It’s nothing bad. I promise.” I said again, trying to placate him as well as me. “I was just going to say… Well, really I was wondering…”

Baz was looking at me carefully, trying to tell what I wanted to ask before I finished. I could tell he was trying his best not to interrupt me, and I had never been so thankful for that.

“I was… We’ve been together for a while now, right?” Baz nodded. “And, we seem to be getting along great, and I really love you. From the bottom of my heart, I love you, Baz.”

“I love you too, Simon. You know that.”

It was my turn to nod. “Yeah, I was just… I love you so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” My fingers curled around the box this time. They opened it shakily, revealing the pure white satin and the gleaming golden band. “And I wanted to ask if you wanted to do the same with me.”

Baz was staring at the band and not saying anything. I felt my heart drop even as I uttered the last words, because I couldn’t stop myself now even if I tried. “Will you marry me?”

There was silence for an instant, and in that instant, I felt my heart shatter, repair itself, and break all over again.

As soon as that instant was over, Baz launched himself at me, but all I could concentrate on was the breathless, “Yes,” that fell from his lips.


	10. Angst Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say I'm sorry in advance.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, amazing shout out to my best friend Manjot who has helped me come up with story ideas for these prompts when I'm really struggling with them.

**Baz**

A lot can change in a moment.

Really it can. A moment can change your entire life. The moment that I was bitten by vampires and my mother sacrificed herself changed my life forever. The moment that Simon first kissed me in that burning forest to keep me from ending my own life changed me forever. The moment that Snow gave up his magic changed the world.

The moment that the SUV hit our little sedan and sent us flying and rolling through the air changed three lives.

The other driver was arrested for a DUI that was supposed to go on his permanent record, but he had been rich, so there was a good chance that he would just end up paying off whoever. I wonder if he’s going to care about the lives of the people he hit.

My life was changed. I had been driving, and Snow had said something funny. We had laughed, and I hadn’t looked both ways before I crossed the intersection. The light was green. I should have looked.

But Simon.

Simon was worse off. Where I made it out with minor fractures and a broken arm, he was still in surgery.

I remember seeing the bright flash of light, too little, too late. There was an awful moment of clarity. I knew exactly what was happening as it was happening, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. The SUV slammed into my side of the car. This terrible wrenching sound exploded into my ears, and we were weightless.

The frame of our car collapsed when we rolled, and we rolled for a while. The windshield shattered in front of me, and I felt more than heard my neck pop from the jerk that it felt. My arm ached where it was trapped between the door and the steering wheel. Panic rose in my chest because _I couldn’t move_ , but it was nothing compared to the pure visceral fear I felt when I looked to the passenger seat and I saw Simon.

His life was changed forever as well. The frame of the car had curved inward and sliced through the meat of his shoulder like it was nothing. His normally bright face was covered in slick red, his eyes were closed, and his normally bright blond curls were matted against his head, thick with blood.

I called to him, but he didn’t respond.

I don’t know how long we were like that, but eventually, the ambulance showed up; Simon hadn’t moved.

Thank god they got him out first.

It might not have been soon enough.

So here I was, my arm in a sling and my other hand bunched at my side as I waited for my husband to get out of surgery. They said he was still alive, but his chances were slim. But he _had_ to pull through. He was Simon Bloody Snow, and nothing could stop him.

After seven hours, a doctor came to me. “Are you Tyrannus Basilton-”

“Just call me Baz.” I said tersely. Drop the formalities. Just tell me that my husband is here, that he’s safe, and that he is going to be okay. “Simon, is he…?” I didn’t want to finish the sentence, because vocalizing my worries somehow made them more real.

“Let’s talk over here.” He led me out of the waiting room and into a much smaller room that was completely empty, barren, lifeless.

I didn’t like this room at all.

“Your husband is out of surgery-”

“Can I see him?”

The doctor hesitated, then nodded. “You can, but I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news.”

I shook my head. “I want to see him.” If I could just see him, then nothing else matters.

“It might be best if I tell you first.”

“Is he alive?” He has to be alive. He needs to be alive.

“Do you want the clinical diagnosis or my opinion?”

My heart broke. No. Simon was alive. I would have _felt_ something if he had died. You always saw that in literature. You were destined to feel it the instant your loved one passed away.

I hadn’t felt anything.

Not yet, at least.

“Is he alive?” I reiterated. I needed to hear him say it.

“Mr. Snow-Pitch.” He started. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that your husband is brain dead.”

\---

The person sitting on that bed wasn’t Simon. He wasn’t _my_ Simon.

My Simon was always so bright and full of life. He would stay up late into the night laughing at the simple things with me in his arms. His energy would be bouncing off the walls because his mortal body was physically incapable of containing all of it.

This Simon though…

He was dwarfed by machines towering over him, each of them showing a different number for him: his heart rate, his oxygen saturation, anything else. I stopped looking at them after the obvious. I couldn’t see most of his face beneath all of the scarring. Apparently, they didn’t want to waste the bandages on someone who was already dead.

But he _wasn’t_ dead. Not to me, at least. His heart was still beating, and he was still breathing, even if both of those were facilitated by machines. A giant tube had been stuffed down his throat. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping, but he wasn’t. I would know. His breaths were too even too often. They were too mechanical, each inhale and exhale denoted by a clicking sound.

This wasn’t _my_ Simon.

I didn’t want to be here.

But I needed to be here.

Simon would want me here.

I wondered if he was as scared of the blackness of his mind as I was, as I had been stuck in that coffin. I couldn’t leave Simon to be alone like I had been.

I needed to call Penny. She’ll blame me; she’ll cry; she’ll bemoan the fact that her best friend is gone.

I don’t want to make that call.

But I need to make that call.

I don’t actually want to do anything really.

When I grab Simon’s hand, so familiar and so alien at the same time, he doesn’t move. His fingers don’t curl into mine like they always did, and nothing on his face changed.

It was like he was already dead.

But he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry to barge in like this.” The same doctor from before said. His voice went so well with this synthetic room: falsified concern to go with falsified life. “But unfortunately we do need to consult you on the next steps that we are going to take.”

“What next steps?” My voice sounds different, even to me. “What’s after this?”

“Well, he’s not a donor, so the hospital would look at him remaining here as inefficient.” He was choosing his words carefully, but they weren’t the right words.

“You want to talk to me about letting my husband die.” I said. My voice was cold, far colder than I thought it could ever be.

The doctor stepped closer to me and Simon. “Not exactly-”

“No.” It was getting harder and harder for me to speak. “That’s exactly what you want to talk to me about. You want me to pull the plug.”

He sighed heavily behind me. “In short, yes, that is what I am here to talk to you about.”

I let my eyes squeeze shut, hoping to trap the moisture behind them, but I only let them fall to the bed. They fell on Simon’s hand, and he didn’t move.

This wasn’t Simon.

Simon was gone.

He wouldn’t want to be kept here, not even alive. He would never smile again, never laugh again, he would never truly be _Simon_ again.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his temple when he still didn’t move, I knew what I had to do.

“Okay.” I choked out.

“Do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say I'm sorry after the fact.


	11. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is so short, but I didn't have as much motivation for this :/
> 
> Tomorrow will be happier!

__

_Simon Snow_

__

Beloved Husband

__

He Passed as He Lived

__

Burning Bright

__

\---

The flowers in front of his grave had wilted since the last time Baz had been here. The petals hung from their stems which had turned dry and woody over time.

He replaced them again. The flowers this time were red carnations; after all what was Valentine’s Day without them?

It was the first year without Simon, and for some reason, the hole where Simon had been felt so much more empty than it had been before. It was worse than their anniversary when they had last gone out to eat. Maybe it was because he had to watch a hundred other couples as happy as they could be while he was here in front of the cold stone slab.

He didn’t like that inscription. It made Simon seem like he had died on fire.

Baz had just wanted the world to know that Simon had loved so fiercely, even to his dying breath. ‘Burning Bright’ seemed to fit his life so well, though, that he couldn’t have chosen anything better at the time.

Not when everything was so fresh.

Not when all he could remember about Simon was how brightly his love burned, for Baz, for Penny, for everyone.

He had burned so brightly, he had burned himself out.


	12. In A Bookshop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! Have some fluff and happiness? I tried?

The little bell on the door to _Bookshelf_ rang cheerfully, remarking that a new customer had arrived. No one else had been there all day, so Baz was instantly aware of the newcomer.

“Welcome to _Bookshelf_!” He tried to say it cheerfully, but whoever had just walked through the door had interrupted the middle of a scene; he hadn’t had his concentration broken in the two hours since opening. “If there’s anything you need help finding, just let me know.”

The man thanked him and walked into the aisles; every now and then, his golden hair would glint against the light and catch Baz’s eye.

Baz hated it.

He needed to pay attention to the book he was doing, and he couldn’t do that if every time he went to the top of his page, that man was there. He sighed heavily and redoubled his efforts to concentrate on his book. That of course, failed, because as soon as the imagery started to appear in his head, a literal ray of sunshine appeared in his vision again.

“Excuse me?” He asked. “I was wondering if you had anything by Ernest Hemingway? I couldn’t find anything in your Classics section.” He bit his bottom lip and worried it between his teeth.

“Oh, yeah, Hemingway is going to be in the awful books section in the back.” Baz scoffed. He moved his bookmark reluctantly to hold his space as he uncrossed his legs and got up. “Is it for a school assignment or something?”

“Unfortunately.” The other said. “I need his goodbye to arms or something like that? I read the Old Man and the Sea, and I absolutely hated it. If you’re going to tell a story, then you need to actually tell it, not say some words and hope that your readers catch your drift.”

Baz scoffed. “Tell me about it. Isn’t the boy in that story actually like 20 something? If he’s an adult, call him an adult. And besides, what was that story about anyway? Don’t fight for anything, because the world will only seek to destroy your great accomplishments? What kind of a fucked up theme is that?”

“I’m already dreading the essay that we have to do on this book. I was already planning on using SparkNotes for most of it, but I don’t think that this professor is going to let me get away with that.”

“I know that feeling.” Baz sighed. “I had a professor like that last semester who just inherently knew whether or not we had done the reading.”

“Man, I think we might have the same professor because this woman knows everything.”

“English 35? At Watford? WIth Dr. B?”

He shook his head, “Nah, her name’s O’Ma-”

Baz cut the other off. “No, that might have been her name, but she was Dr. B, because she was a Doctor, and she would be addressed as such. But, she was also a bitch, and what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

He seemed stunned at what had just come out of Baz’s mouth, and Baz wondered if he had gone too far, but as soon as the thought materialized in his mind, the blonde in front of him giggled. He giggled, and the store lit up brighter than it did with all the windows open in the middle of July.

“Yeah.” He said through his laughter. “Yeah, I think we have the same professor then.”

Baz, unfortunately, had paused to admire the person in front of him, but he had done it right in front of the section that he needed. He sighed heavily and bent down to pluck a small novel off of the shelf. “Farewell to Arms.” He said, somewhat disheartened that he had found it so easily. “This is the one you need, right?”

The other nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.” He took the hardback in his hands and felt the heft of it. “This one is twice the size of Old Man, I don’t want to deal with his writing style for that long.”

“It probably doesn’t help.” Baz pointed to the copy in his hands. “But that one is almost three times the length of the Old Man and the Sea.”

He groaned as the two of them walked back to the register.

Baz rang him up quickly, almost cursing his efficiency.

“You know.” The blond said with a shy smile on his lips. “If you ever wanted to like… talk about books or something?” He stopped himself. “No, that’s stupid. You’re really cute, and I was wondering if you um… Wanted to go out for coffee sometime?”

Baz handed the book back to him, but not before writing his number on the receipt. “I would love to.”


	13. Games

“Snow, I don’t want to play a game with you right now. I’m not in the mood.” Baz scrubbed the scum from the dishes angrily.

“It’ll be great though. We can play a quick game of something.” Simon said. He was on the tips of his toes with his arms wrapped around Baz’s waist and his head was peeking over the other’s shoulder. “We could play something that you’re good at?”

Baz laughed. “I’m only good at the games that you don’t like.” He kissed Simon’s forehead. “I don’t think that you want to play chess with me anyway.”

“I want to play anything you want.”

“Do you want to play ‘Let’s do the dishes’?”

Simon pursed his lips. “I want to play ‘Let’s avoid doing the dishes and hope they are mysteriously cleaned after we get back from our game of Mario Kart’.”

Baz snorted. “Maybe after I do these dishes. Okay, babe?” Simon hummed in satisfaction. “You know, if you help, it’ll go so much faster.”

The warmth of Simon’s body pressed up against Baz’s back was instantly gone. It was almost hilarious how quickly it happened. “I can’t do that.” He told Baz. “I’m allergic to dishes. If my skin even touches soggy food, I’ll break out in hives. Stop laughing, this is a serious affliction.”

Baz was uncontrollably giggling, and Simon’s heart was soaring. “Fine.” He held up a somewhat soapy finger. “But only if you agree to help me afterward.”

Simon pursed his lips distastefully, thinking about how he could possibly get out of the later duties. “Deal. But first, clean your hands. I don’t want you getting the console all soapy.”

\---

“This is the last one, I promise!”

“That’s what you said last time, and we still played a whole other cup!”

“It’s not my fault the AI beat me on the last race!”

“It is exactly your fault!”

“You were the one who threw a blue shell!”

“You were the one who got hit by the blue shell!”

“So how is that my fault?” Snow asked. “I don’t know if you remember or not, but you physically cannot escape a blue shell.”

Baz smiled. “Oh no, I am fully aware.”

“We gotta go one more time, Baz.”

“No, we don’t.” He got up, feeling his knees popping after staying in one position for an hour and a half. “What we _do_ need to do is wash the dishes.”

Simon rolled over from where he was laying on the floor in front of their television. “You can’t leave yet; you still haven’t won a race!”

Baz leaned over and chastely kissed the top of Simon’s head. “My goal was only to keep you from winning. By use of that logic, I didn win.”

“Yeah, but you have sucky logic, so I declare a rematch.”

Baz cast a look back at the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink and to the brightly colored screen. “Alright. One more game.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it! If you saw the [prompts](http://carryon-countdown.tumblr.com/post/180452918093/carry-on-countdown-2018), and thought of an idea for one, feel free to send me something on my [tumblr](http://fandomseverywhereassemble.tumblr.com) or comment below. I won't guarantee that I'll do it, but I will certainly try to incorporate some of your ideas.
> 
> And as always, if you liked it, please leave some kudos or a comment, it means the world to me!


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